


Manic

by lethargicallyEnraged (JessiBoBessi)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Decisions, Bipolar Disorder, Boring look into everyday life, Humanstuck, I mean sort of?, I'm bad at tagging things, M/M, Manic Episode, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Really bad choices, There isn't a plot, There might be a plot, bad choices, okay maybe not that bad, seriously he makes such bad choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessiBoBessi/pseuds/lethargicallyEnraged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t like didn’t know I was Bipolar-1, I just didn’t particularly care most of the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manic

My name is Sollux Captor and I make bad choices. Given, not as bad of a choice as my parents by naming me Sollux but, as a baby, they couldn’t know I’d have such a stupid lisp when it came to actually speaking. Why they thought Sollux was still an acceptable name is beyond me. Just like how many fucking licks it takes to get the center of a tootsie-pop, the world may never know. 

My headphones thumped loud bass beats in my ear as my eyes rapidly scanned lines of code. The thing about being self-aware is that you learn to recognize why you’re doing the things you’re doing. I know why I had only slept about six hours in three days, and why despite this sheer amount of time, I kept getting distracted by stupid Youtube videos instead of doing anything important. It wasn’t like didn’t know I was Bipolar-1, I just didn’t particularly care most of the time. 

I’m 19, I live with my parents and I don’t have a job. Why should I give a fuck about taking my medication? Who actually gave a shit if I got out of bed or not? And, frankly, as fucked up as it sounds, I like the highs too much. Yeah, there, I said it. Count me one of the stupid mentally ill people who enjoys my illness more than not most of the time. Sure, the depression is a kicker and it happens more often than not, but it’s worth it for nights like these.

I flick my mismatched eyes to the corner of my screen. 2:50 AM. My chat screens are flashing, and have been for the better part of an hour, but I’d gotten bored talking to all of them anyway. I push my rolling chair across the floor, grabbing my phone from its spot on my bed. 

Three texts and a missed call from Karkat. I roll my eyes, clicking the text without reading them to make the notifications go away as I open the app. 

One of the perks of my life of duality is being completely and utterly pansexual, and one of the perks of being a manipulative, pragmatic asshole is realizing that it’s a lot easier to get guys to fuck you without caring too hard. I open up Grindr and turn on the GPS location. 

After flicking past a few “NOs” I finally land on a “fuck yes” and send a quick hello. His pictures are all shirtless pics with swords and sunglasses, but that pretty blonde hair is enough to make me not give a shit. He says he’s a top, which is totally cool with me because with the mood I’m in I want to bottom hard. 

He responds back, and after approximately two minutes, he sends me his phone number. 

I chew my bottom lip as I adjust my glasses a little, standing from my chair and pacing back and forth. I catch a few things in the corner of my vision, how disheveled my hair looks and how oily my skin is right now, for starters. I make a mental note that whatever goes down tonight, I have to shower first. Even when I just want a random fuck, I don’t want to smell like greasy hair and Dorito dust. 

My phone buzzes and I slide it open to read the responding text.

I blink. Wasn’t that obvious? It was obvious. It had to be obvious. Just for good measure, I snap a picture and send it. I grab my robe and sneak to the bathroom, starting the shower. I heard my phone buzz and picked it up, my face flushing at the return picture.

This was going to be a fun evening. I send him my address and tell him to pick me up in thirty. His response is short and sweet.

Forty-five minutes later, after having climbed out of my window and made my way around the motion-sensor light and walked to the end of my, thankfully, long driveway, I was leaning against a lamp post and trying not to fidget. Not because I was nervous, but because sometimes I do that. I flicked aimlessly through a few pictures, trying not to look at the overly judgmental eyes of my best friend. He’d texted me a few more times, but I think he gave up and went to bed. 

A car pulls up, an old pickup truck and the window is rolled down showing me the same sun-glasses clad face as his page. I shove my phone in my pocket and stroll to the passenger side, climbing into the old bird with a creak. 

“Where to?” he asks, and I blink. I hadn’t really connected the out-of-state area code with the idea that he could have an accent. I mean, it was whatever, who cares what he sounded like. 

“Anywhere, just not here.” I murmured, sounding probably a little more angst-ridden and emo than I meant it to. He didn’t seem to care. He just pulled off, driving down the street until my house was out of sight. I leaned against the door, looking him over. He wasn’t that much taller than me, probably my age too, and he was really hot. 

His skin was suntanned and when the streetlights illuminated it, sparse freckles lit up his cheeks. His shirt was long-sleeved, but rolled up, showing impressive forearms that were covered with soft, baby-blond hair. I guess he was a natural blond and I smirked. We pulled into a park and he unbuckled his belt, turning behind him and popping out the window. He lithely shimmied into the bed of his truck, holding his hand out to me and I followed suit. 

The silence was killing me.

“So,” I said, looking around the bed of his truck. “This thing is really clean. I bet you have a cover for it or something to keep it this clean, and the blankets are a nice touch. I guess not a lot of guys would think to bring like a blanket or something to keep whoever they’re hooking up with from skinning their knees or some shit and it’s really nice.”

“Dude, don’t be so nervous,” he responded and scooted closer to me. I blinked. 

“I’m not nervous, I just talk too much.”

“S’cool, I can fix that,” he said and before I could get another sentence in, he pressed his lips against mine. He tasted like cigarettes and mint gum and it was intoxicating. I groaned against his lips as I kissed him back, and he pulled me so I was leaning with him, both of us falling to the bed of his truck. 

The kiss didn’t linger, which was fine because they get awkward when they do. He moved to nip and lick at the nape of my neck and my hands trailed down his front to the hem of his shirt. He caught the hint pretty quick and pulled his shirt off before grabbing mine roughly and removing it. His kisses turned into bites, and I couldn’t help the keening sound that came from my throat when the sting hit me. He groaned, and bit again at my collar bone, hard enough to bruise and jesusfuckingchristIwassohard. 

Not fast enough, not fast enough, I needed more. 

My fingers were a little clumsy with his belt and he chuckled against my skin.

“Shit, you get right to the point,” he mumbled as he moved to help me and I shrugged. 

“I don’t like to waste time,” I answered as he pulled his jeans down. I could feel a tight knot in my stomach when I saw that he didn’t bother wearing underwear. 

A little above average, thick at the base, and fucking mouth-watering. I didn’t hesitate, bending over so my ass was lifted in the air as I sucked his cock into my mouth, and he hissed. His hands fell to my back and soothed little circles against my hot skin, which I guess was nice but wasn’t what I was paying attention to. 

The smooth, hot skin of Dave’s cock in my mouth was what I needed all night, and I swirled my tongue around it in my mouth. I sucked it as deep into my mouth as it would go and brought my hand up to stroke the rest as I bobbed up and down, my eyes fluttering shut. 

His hands ran down my back and slipped into my jeans, moving into my briefs and grabbing at my cheeks. His long fingers stroked at my hole, and I shuddered as he bucked into my mouth. After a few minutes he pulled his hands back, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me off him. He slid onto the bed of the truck, and I struggled out of my pants and boxers quickly.

Before I knew it, he’d pulled my hips over his face. All I could manage to say was a string of curse words as his tongue lapped at my twitching hole. I reached down and stroked my cock as he ate me out, my head flying above the clouds. When he pushed his tongue inside with a groan, I nearly came. I guess he could tell, because his hand moved to cover mine, holding my strokes to a slow and painfully delicious pace he went to town on my ass. 

By the time he pushed himself from under me, I was gasping for air and twitching, my cock throbbing. 

“Rubber?” he asked as he pushed me forward, my arms barely catching me as I was bent over. 

“Don’t care, just fuck me.” He chuckled again and were I not literally about to cum so hard I think I might die, I’d probably take offense. He pressed the head of his cock against my opening and I bit my lip, moaning. It hurt like hell, going dry, but I liked pain more often than not, and I pushed my hips back against him as he thrust into me. 

It wasn’t long before he was pounding into me in earnest, one of his hands gripping my hair as the other wrapped around my hips, stroking my cock in time with his thrusts. My head was spinning the entire time, and I was riding that high, even when I heard him mumble against the back of my neck that he was going to cum soon and pulled out, spinning me around.

I was so dizzy and lost he hooked his fingers into my lips, opening my mouth as he spurted his cum over my tongue and lips, and I groaned, my hand falling to my throbbing erection. It didn’t take more than two firm strokes and a twist as he was still cumming over my face for me to meet the same end, my own cum splashing over my hand and probably getting more of it on his truck. 

I panted, catching my breath as I brought my hand up, shaking, to wipe my lips off. He sat down, leaning against the back of the truck, his pants still around his knees as he looked up at the summer night sky. I coughed as I looked around the truck, looking for something to clean myself off with and he mumbled, “Just wipe it on the blanket, not like I wasn’t going to wash it anyway.”

I nodded, wiping my hands off and my face for good measure before locating my shirt and boxers. Fuck pants, pants were over rated and my ass was too sore for the skinny jeans. 

“By the way, you never told me your name,” I looked over at him, his head tilted to the side. 

“Uh, it’s Sollux,” I said, feeling the embarrassment spread from not being able to pronounce my own name right. He nodded, stretching his arms over his head. 

“Dave Strider.” 

The ride back to my place was uneventful, he turned on music this time and his taste in music didn’t have nearly enough bass for my liking. When he pulled up to my driveway, I said goodbye awkwardly and climbed out of the truck, pulling my pants on before walking up the drive (still not bothering with shoes though.)

There was a figure sitting on my stoop, the blue light of a phone illuminating his pissed off face. He looked up at me, his eyes full of anger and hurt and I felt like shit. So much shit. I was literally a piece of shit floating in sea of shit on a shit planet. 

“Where the fuck were you?” he asked, not even bothering to stand up. His phone was still glowing in his hand, and I knew if I bothered to check my phone, I’d have a million missed texts. 

“Out,” I answered, shoving my hands in my pockets. 

“Out.” His voice was hallow, beyond angry. I shrugged. 

“What do you want me to say KK? I’m sorry I didn’t text you back-“

“You’re doing it again. Not sleeping, barely eating, and what? You expect me to just believe you were ‘Out.’”

“No. But I expect you to know that you’re not the police of my love life, KK. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

“Not when you’re like this you fuckass.”

I smirked a little. 

“Phrasing.” Karkat’s face turned bright red and it was worth it when he stood up, walked over to me and punched me in the face. 

I fell over laughing at my own stupid joke and he flicked me off as he walked down my driveway. I still felt like shit, but I was still pretty happy with how the night went. 

After I showered and climbed into bed to try and sleep (fuck, when did it become 5 A.M.?) I checked my phone. 

I suck my teeth and text him back. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to explore writing from Sollux's P.O.V. concerning his BPD-1 for a while. Most people tend to dwell on the depression, but I wanted to experiment with him during a manic high. Might wind up as part of a series of one-shots into the boring lives of this Humanstuck 'verse. I like boring stories about mundane lives.


End file.
